


Believe in Faults

by Queen_Of_This_Ship



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Amica Endurae, Conjunx Endura, Drift is the best, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I can smut?, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Megatron is and aft, Non-Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Rodimus is a bit depressed, Rodimus is actually smart, SUFFER WITH ME, Sorry Not Sorry, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Spark Bonds, courting, i can't tag, i like heats, i should be stopped, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-08 00:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Of_This_Ship/pseuds/Queen_Of_This_Ship
Summary: They were never compatible.They couldn’t stand being in the same room together.Their ship couldn’t trust them.No matter what they did, they only fueled each other’s rage.Though in a sudden turn of events, Rodimus is left unsure of what to do.And since when was everything his fault?





	1. One Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Reuploading this as I had a need to actually pay attention to this-
> 
> I can't stop myself ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ever since Megatron stepped aboard the _Lost Light_, Rodimus hated him. Not because he was an evil tyrant that killed millions, not because he took his place as captain, but because Rodimus could see a little of himself in the silver mech. Rodimus hated it. Hated _him._ The Prime hated feeling belittled, especially from Megatron, so he fought back, though it infuriated the speedster to no end when Megatron ignored him.

Rodimus was famous for wanting to be the center of attention and the speedster knew how attractive he was. But no matter how many mechs he slept with, he only wanted _Megatron’s _attention. So when the lines blurred between resentment and admiration, Rodimus did not understand how to react to his confused emotions towards the former warlord. He could only continue what his usual routine, annoy the silver mech. That was all that he was good at these days.

But as days went by, Rodimus had pushed his limits to an extreme, causing the speedster to grow sick. In an attempt of keeping himself from being labeled as weak or whatever, he took refuge in his hab to sleep off the sickness. Four days ago.

Groaning, Rodimus tensed as opened his optics. The lights to his hab were off, though Rodimus’ optics stung as he looked about, trying to focus. Venting in frustration, Rodimus offlined his optics to reset them. 

Shifting in his position, Rodimus felt heavy. It did not surprise him; he was recovering. Though what surprised him was how hot his frame ran. He felt like his body had burst into flames. While his ability was cool, Rodimus hoped that he didn’t do that. He felt gross, his body feeling sticky like there was something like oil spread across his plating. He did not know what it was, and he scrunched up his face at how disgusting it felt. He still felt warm despite feeling great and Rodimus grumbled to himself.

_I should clean myself. _He thought as his optics came back online.

As he moved, he realized that the source of his heaviness came from his lower half. Confused, the speedster turned his helm. The sight had the Prime’s breath stuck and his spark stopped. Beside him was the larger frame of Megatron recharging peacefully. The shock settled in and panic took over his systems. The red speedster immediately fought against the former warlord’s frame. He didn’t keep track of his movements, but Rodimus had tried to shove the mech off the berth. Though the smaller mech ended up crashing to the ground as he rolled off the berth. Almost immediately, Rodimus was in pain. His spinal strut cracked in the most unpleasant way possible, making Rodimus give a weak cry. His body must’ve been stiff for some time as his entire frame rattled and the speedster struggled against the shock of the impact. As he turned his body to his servos and kneeplates, he heard movement from the berth.

“Rodi- let me help you.”

The static in Megatron’s voice had Rodimus unsure of the mech and immediately turned. Megatron was a least a few steps away from him and the looks of worry in Megatron’s optics pissed Rodimus off.

“I don’t need help!” He snapped. “What are you doing here? In my berth?”

The silver mech blinked in surprise, though he straightened. Rodimus’ spark was pulsing and he felt like it could give out at any moment. Never in a million years had he ever felt this shocked from bringing a partner back to his hab. It only fueled his wonder on why Megatron was here.

“You went into heat.” Blunt, but straight to the point, but Rodimus had no time to react as Megatron continued. “The entire ship went into chaos, fighting one another to get to _you_.“

Rodimus quickly put the pieces together before Megatron even had the chance of continuing. Rodimus never shared his heats with _anyone. _He wanted that for someone special. Disgusted that Megatron had the audacity to even take advantage of that had Rodimus’ frame heat up again.

“What did you do?” He demanded.

The look in Megatron’s optics spelled out "_are you stupid?_" and Rodimus nearly burst into flames. If Rodimus hadn’t been recovering, he would’ve done just that.

“I did as any partner would do,” Megatron told him, his red optics shifting, “Breed. That is what heat is meant for.”

The words cut his spark deeply and Rodimus finally understood why he craved the former warlord’s attention. He _liked _Megatron. With the realization, Rodimus’ frame shook violently. His spark ached and Rodimus felt his anger wash over him again.

_Was that what Megatron-_

“Is that heats are to you?” Rodimus fumed at him. “Breeding? To create a new life and move on like nothing ever happened?”

Cold dread washed over him the moment those words left his lips.

_Sparked. _Rodimus immediately stepped away from the former warlord and turned his body away. Fear crawled along his plates. _I’m sparked…?_

“Of course-”

“Leave.”

“Rodimus, I-”

“I said leave!”

Megatron went silent but after a moment, he turned. The moment he heard the door close behind him, his overwhelming emotions had the speedster crumpling to his knees and hiding his face. He didn’t know what to do. And so he let it all out.

He cried until he couldn’t anymore.


	2. Understanding.... What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but I haven't touched this story since April. I want to give this the love it deserves, even if I have to struggle to get there.
> 
> I hope it's all right.
> 
> Any and all feedback is welcome! I want to grow as a writer and learn from my mistakes. Though all I ask is to not tear me down when giving feedback. Thank you!

Rodimus didn’t know what to do. Was he glad that he got Megatron’s attention? Was he okay with the aftermath of a shared heat? No. He wasn’t okay with any of it. He couldn’t take it when he couldn’t understand how Megatron was caring towards his crew, but not to him.

Megatron had come to him during his heat. Rodimus didn’t understand any of it. Overwhelmed by the realization that not only did Megatron not care, but Rodimus could be carrying. How could he carry without a mate? Was it even possible? It was stressful to even think about it. Rodimus knew that his field was a mess of emotion and he could almost feel his Amica coming for him.

_How can Megatron be so cruel?_ Rodimus had wondered, but the mech was too tired and upset to even figure out an answer. The Prime had curled up in the corner of his berthroom, wanting to disappear, wanting to forget. He couldn’t. The mech he loved didn’t want him.

When Drift showed up with Ratchet in tow, Rodimus clung to his Amica as if his life depended on it. Drift held him close, using both his frame and his field to wrap himself around Rodimus, like a blanket. Ratchet positioned himself on the other side, and while Rodimus wasn’t seeking comfort from him, the old medic’s presence was soothing.

The three stayed like this for what seemed like hours before Rodimus finally stirred from his saddened state. His spark was aching at the loss of Megatron, but even he recognized that he needed to move on with his own life, even if Megatron would come to him again. The mess that was his field flared out, catching both Drift's and Ratchet's attention. 

“You feeling all right sweetspark?” Drift spoke up, his blue optics wide.

Fighting back a sniffle, Rodimus gave a little shrug. “Sad and frustrated, but… I think I’ll be okay.”

Ratchet moved beside them, catching Rodimus’ attention. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Rodimus didn’t want that, he really didn’t want to remember, so he shook his helm. 

“Not now.”

“I understand,” Ratchet replied, a servo gently patting his shoulder. 

It was nice to have Ratchet on his side for once, but Rodimus could only believe he was there for Drift and because he pitied the Prime. Rodimus chose not to let this thoughts fill his processor. It was hard enough to get himself this point; Accepting what had happened and moving on. He sighed, moving to snuggle against Drift again.

“Recharge sweetspark,” Drift spoke in a soft voice, “Resting will do you some good.”

Rodimus wanted to forget, even if it took him duins to do so, he will. Drift was right. Drift always knew how to help. It didn’t take him long to close his optics and power down for a bit. 

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

In the time of two duins, Rodimus chose to not dwell on this accident and went back to his duties as captain. While he pretended to not notice the wondering optics that moved his way, Rodimus continued on with his life. And that was fine. He was _happier_ this way.

Until Megatron showed up at his door.

His happiness, what little he had had all but faded now. Rodimus didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t want to see him. While he had bots that he really hated, Megatron was a whole new level. He was bitter towards the former warlord and wanted nothing to do with him. 

_“Rodimus, can we talk?”_

Anger flared within him as he heard Megatron outside his door. It was very obvious that Megatron didn’t like or care for him. He knew this. Half of his crew knew all about his and Rodimus’ shared heat. Rodimus was not deaf and eavesdropping on conversations that involved Megatron was enough to confirm his suspicions. 

_How dare he?_ Rodimus’ spoiler shot up to express his anger as he padded into his berthroom. He was angry and just wanted to curl up under his blankets. Though he sat at the edge and listened.

Megatron was still at the door but had quieted down. Rodimus could hear the mech tapping a pede and the gentle, but frustrated vents. Megatron was not happy.

_What is he doing? _Rodimus asked himself, though the anger took hold. His spark was still in pain from that day and Megatron didn’t seem to understand that he wanted to be alone. Though a ping from his HUD had him looking at his messages.

_{ Rodimus, if you wish to not speak to me, I understand. I see where I went wrong, for that, I must apologize. I did not intend to hurt you. But, if you want to continue to keep your distance, I understand and I would recommend it. It’s probably best for both of us. }_

The message tore open the wounds he had desperately tried to heal. Rodimus choked back the sobs as he held a servo to his mouth to keep himself quiet. 

_How can he be so considerate and cruel at the same time?_ Rodimus didn’t understand. 

He let himself sink into the mound of blankets, curling up under them. He didn’t want to be alone, he must. He mustn’t look weak or appear weak. His crew nearly voted him out of his captaincy, he didn’t need to give them another reason.

_Oh, Primus. _Rodimus’ frame shook as he couldn’t hold back the sobs. He held his blankets close to him, burying his face. _I can’t do this._


	3. Scanning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have to edit my mistakes tomorrow. But enjoy anyway! ^^

Rodimus thought that moving on would work, but all it did was make things worse. He was still trying to wrap his processor around this situation, trying to distract himself. 

He tried. And tried.

He pretended that nothing happened, just as he did when things didn’t go his way. He dove headfirst into the work he hated so much, but it was the only thing that kept him busy, other than making routine trips around the ship, documenting any disturbances and, his favorite chore of all, making a list for himself. Rodimus did not know that creating a daily or sometimes future events made him feel so good. He was constantly adding to the list and going about his day.

Once, Rodimus could confidently say that he loved talking to his crew, but no, after all this time, he could say it was his least favorite thing to do. While Rodimus held grudges, had tantrums here and there, he realized that his anger had been getting the best of him and it was affecting his relationships with his crew. He didn't want to distance himself. He wanted to so desperately to control it, but it was what fueled him and it was what had him still leading _ his _ship. But, Rodimus did admit, sometimes the silence was better than company.

On another note, Rodimus and Megatron were barely in each other's presence. Sure they bumped into each other here and there, but neither had the bearings to speak to each other. Their shifts sometimes aligned, which made Rodimus both pissed off and nervous. It pissed him off that Ultra Magnus was attempting to help the situation, and he was nervous as he always had a sinking feeling in his stomach when he and Megatron were in the same room together.

Rodimus would not deny sneaking glances at the warlord, but the little hope that fluttered in his spark when he and Megatron would accidentally lock optics turned into something that Rodimus couldn’t really describe. 

_ Want? _ Rodimus had asked himself. _Of course, I still want him. _

The speedster did not know what it was, but he couldn’t let it go. Some days it drained him to the point he could barely leave his hab, or it gave him the energy to seek the warlord. It was like a craving of sorts, wanting to be noticed, even for a brief moment. Or, Rodimus realizing that he wanted to be embraced by the silver mech. His frame gave him mixed messages, and it frustrated him.

Rodimus did_ not _want to seek Megatron out. 

So he sought out Ratchet. Rodimus knew the medic didn't spealize in therapy as Rung did, but if he was honest with himself, Rodimus only trusted two bots. And Ratchet was one of them. Maybe, he could visit Rung one day. Rodimus added that task to the list he was now so fond of.

With a light knock on the medbay open doors, it did not take First Aid long to notice him.

“Rodimus,” he seemed genuinely shocked. “Do you need anything?”

The medic's reaction had Rodimus hesitant, but, Rodimus paid no attention, brushing it off as if he didn't notice, now letting his optics scan the medbay.

“Is Ratchet in?” Rodimus asked.

“Yes, he is,” First Aid replied, “Do you want me to get him?”

Rodimus shook his helm as he stepped into the medbay, “No, I can do it.”

The speedster then padded across the room and into the small office where Ratchet spent most of his time in. The older mech didn’t seem as surprised when Rodimus padded into the room. Unimpressed optics watched the Prime as the door close behind him.

“Rodimus.” It was neither a greeting nor a question and it made Rodimus wonder if he made the right choice in coming to Ratchet.

“I have a problem.”

The words came out without a second thought. Ratchet’s brow rose ever so slightly, but he gestured towards a chair that Rodimus gladly took.

“I’m well aware,” the medic said. “But you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Rodimus’ gaze shifted to the floor, his spoiler drooping. His processor was trying to find the right words now. 

“I… I’ve been having strange cravings,” he murmured. 

“For Megatron?” 

Rodimus nodded, optics shyly moving to the medic.

“It’s natural for a mech to crave his partner,” Ratchet told him.

“Megatron is _ not _ my partner.” Rodimus did his best to not snap at the medic but the stoic look in those optics did not help.

“Yes, I know he isn’t,” Ratchet then gestured for Rodimus to come to him.

Without an objection, Rodimus scooted over. The speedster did not know what Ratchet wanted, but he was confused when the medic took ahold of his aim, digits tracing his medical port. 

“Drift has been worried about you,” Ratchet said, extending his cord to pull it in, “We’ve been keeping an optic on you.”

This was news to him. Drift had said nothing to him, other than comforting him through their bond. Rodimus’ spark _ whirred _in his chest when the realization that Drift has been talking about him behind his back. Sadness pierced his spark and Rodimus said nothing.

“Don’t blame Drift,” Ratchet told him, optics shifting to a hologram, “I told him not to tell you anything as you were not in a good state. You and I both know that is the truth.”

Ratchet had a point, but it did not change the fact that he felt almost betrayed.

“But we’ve both noticed a few things,” Ratchet said, catching Rodimus’ attention, “I would come and find you soon to talk about it, but it seems you found me first.”

_ Noticed a few things? _ Rodimus thought, releasing a snort. _ That could mean many things. _

“Other than your attitude, you’ve been gaining weight.”

“I have not been gaining weight!” Rodimus was quick to snap at the medic who didn’t seem amused.

Rodimus could handle a remark or two, but it irritated him to the core when it came to someone stating the truth about his appearance. Rodimus already had issues, so why not put another one in the mix?

“Take a good look at yourself, your armor is nearly bulging.”

Rodimus almost didn’t want to look and continue to deny the claims, but the little bot of curiosity got him to look. Almost immediately, Rodimus felt ashamed. His armor, in the best way to put it, was flared out and bulging just as Ratchet said. Rodimus had failed to mention that his frame was always aching and the moment, everything made sense. Perhaps lying around the last few duins had made him fat.

_Fat. _He hated that word with a passion.

A hum rose from Ratchet and Rodimus looked back at him. The medic was looking at the medical scans, the same stoic expression on his faceplates as his blue optics moved towards Rodimus again.

“Has something come up?” Rodimus asked.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Ratchet said, “Yet.”

_ Yet. _Rodimus paused for a moment before he leaned forward knowing there were more. “That’s not at all concerning.”

Ratchet had unplugged himself from the port before he crossed his arms, optics surprisingly soft, yet serious. Rodimus _ knew _that look, and the speedster had only a few moments to prepare himself from a bucket load of information.

“Rodimus,” Ratchet finally spoke up. “It is not surprising that your frame is putting in weight and is craving Megatron, seeing that you are expecting. A growing sparkling needs a sire to help form them.”

Rodimus stared at Ratchet, before blinking. Then emotions pain, anger, confusion, it hit him like a fragging planet and everything went black.


End file.
